The Madman who became a wizard
by The War Doctor
Summary: What if at 'The End of Time' episode, instead of being sucked back into the Time-War, the Master fell through a crack in the universe and ended up on an alternate earth, memories erased, and transformed into a baby? What if he was then adopted by the Potters and named 'Harry Potter? What if he then discovered who he really was? What if the Doctor and Clara followed him soon after?
1. Chapter 1

**Right, new story. **

**Harry as the Master.. It's bound to be interesting to write. **

**Anyway, I won't ramble this time... ENJOY! XD**

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Harry groaned as he leaned his head against the cold Hogwarts Express train window, trying to get his it to cool down somewhat. It was burning up, as it always did nowadays, when he got a headache, which had recently become really frequent... ever since Voldemort rose about two months ago, at the end of the school year.

He'd been having nightmares as well, horrible nightmares, in which he kept seeing Cedric's death, Pettigrew cut off his hand, and Voldemort - a horrible slimy looking thing - rise from the cauldron. So far, the whole two months of holidays which he'd had, he hadn't yet experienced a single night in which he didn't have a nightmare... or a single day on which Dudley didn't bully him.

Over the past year, while Harry had been at Hogwarts, Dudley had found a new hobby - boxing. It had helped his physique somewhat, the fat little boy was gone, instead, he was a fat huge man, with a decent amount of muscle hidden underneath all that swinging fat. While it _did _help that Dudley had a hobby, and was mostly out of the house, practising on little kids in the park, it did nothing to help Harry from Dudley bullying him. Boxing must have given him new courage, as while he still seemed afraid of Harry whenever he pulled out his wand, he didn't clutch his backside anymore, the moment Harry mentioned something relating to magic.

And then for no particular reason... Harry had gone and saved him, ending up in a heap of trouble, and with a warning from the Ministry that that was his last chance, and if he ever let another foot step out of line, he'd be sent back to the muggle world... and his wand would be snapped.

Dudley _was _family though, albeit family with contaminated with the 'Vernon Gene'. Harry snorted quietly to himself, imagining what would happen if the magic-gene passed onto Dudley's future children... But if Harry was honest with himself, he was pretty sure no genes could have survived Vernon.h

Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise, as they often did whenever he felt like someone was watching him, Harry glanced around the compartment. Ron was sort of stretched out on the bench, legs dangling off to the side, eyes closed and snoring deeply. Next to him, Hermione was pressed against the window, right across from Harry - and ultimately the one staring at him. Harry shot her a questioning look, blinking slightly, as he heard Ron murmur 'no maroon, no maroon' in his sleep.

"Another headache?" Hermione said loudly, seemingly not caring in the slightest that Ron was sleeping on the bench next to her. Harry frowned for a moment, what was happening between those two recently? Ever since he'd come back from the trail at the Ministry, they had been awkward and aggressive with each other, leading Harry to suspect that something unsavoury had happened between them while he'd been gone. But what? He groaned again as the thumping in his head got louder and louder, preventing him from thinking properly. _Thump, thump, thump, thump. _Pause. _Thump, thump, thump, thump. _Pause. Then again... and again. Like a never stopping drum.

Blinking the pain away, he forced the thumping to the back of his mind and concentrated on Hermione, eyes narrowing as he tried to block out the pain.

"Yeah." He finally muttered back, noticing Hermione's slightly impatient yet sympathetic expression. Rubbing his head, he tried to get that numb feeling out, the one one often got after a migraine. Stretching himself out on the bench, he folded his arms under his head and stared up at the ceiling of the compartment, noticing vaguely that although the train had been in use for a long time now, it looked as though it had only been finished yesterday.

"Harry, it isn't normal. You can't possibly be getting so many migraines, one after another. Do you think..." She hesitated for a second, as if not really sure about whether to say the next thing she had on mind, "Do you think it's an after-effect of You-know-who returning?"

Harry turned his head to the left to look at her, eyebrows furrowed as he considered her. "Nope, Hermione... I don't know who."

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips and Harry raised an eyebrow at her as she opened her mouth. She paused, and stared at him for a moment. "Voldemort." She finally said with confidence and Harry grinned at her. Before he could say anything though, there was a loud thumping noise, and a loud groan as Ron slowly picked himself up from the floor, rubbing the back of his head wearily.  
His eyes were wide and fearful, as if someone had just announced his death.

"Don't say his name!" He finally exclaimed as he rubbed his eyes, yawning slightly.

"Names are just titles. They don't really mean anything," Hermione said, equally passionately. "You could be called 'the Master' but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Are you a master of magic? A master of literature? A master of love? A master of time? A master..."

Harry had stopped listening to her, trying to make sense of the dull warm feeling he got every time she said the words 'the Master'. Was that odd? Yeah, it was, wasn't it? Didn't elves usually call their employers 'master'?

"Oi, Harry!"

Harry blinked once more, and instantly, his eye-sight slipped back into focus as he turned to look at Ron who was standing excitedly by the door of the compartment, which was open and standing outside, was the trolley lady.

"Want anything?" Ron asked, an impatient look on his face now.

Harry shrugged with indifference. Right now, he wasn't sure he'd be able to manage to swallow any proper food, much less, sweets. Ron rolled his eyes and turned back to the lady, ordering several handfuls of sweets.

Wait... Ginny and Neville had been there earlier on, hadn't they? And Luna? Hadn't Neville managed to spray them all with Mimbus Mimbeltonia pus?... At the precise moment Cho walked in. He voiced his thoughts to Hermione who had once more stuck her head into her book.

"They left," Hermione stared at Harry with concern, "Are you sure you're all right, Harry? Didn't you notice them leave? I mean they left about fifteen minutes ago."

"Well," Harry muttered back, through clenched teeth, as the pain in his head spiked, "I wouldn't be asking if I had."

"Yes, right..." Hermione blushed slightly, and turned to Ron who had by now closed the door, and was chewing on a liquorice wand, grinning happily as he settled back onto the bench. "Ron, we had better leave. The meeting starts soon."

At Ron's confused stare, she gestured at his badge. Ron's mouth formed a small 'o' and he scrambled to his feet, quickly following Hermione, after a small, squeaked out 'goodbye'. Rolling his eyes, Harry let himself relax, and rid his mind from any stray thoughts, figuring that if his mind wasn't as busy, his head-ache would calm down eventually.

It didn't.

Well, the head-ache sort of quieted down at some point, but the drum-like aftereffects continued. _Thump, thump, thump, thump. _Pause. _Thump, thump, thump, thump. _

Letting out a grunt of frustration, Harry swung his legs over the side of the bench and glared down at the floor. He hadn't slept properly in over two months... because of 'The Drumming'.

'The Drumming'... It seemed like an appropriate name for the 'thumps', which had been plaguing him all summer. At the beginning they hadn't been that frequent... perhaps once or twice a week. Now, he barely got an hour's rest. And it was driving him mad.

Gazing down at the slightly abnormally clean floor, Harry's eyes rested on the newspaper Luna had been reading earlier. Was it just him... or was that text written the wrong way round, left to right, instead of right to left?

Frowning, he picked up the newspaper, and skimmed the headlines, as a grin slowly stretched upon his face. The headlines were oddly hilarious, and lifted Harry's mood considerably as he grinned down at the paper, "Fudge a Pigmy Puff?" he whispered to himself, mirth clear in his voice.

"Anything interesting?" Harry raised his head, only to see Hermione leaning against the door frame, staring sceptically at the paper.

He grinned and gestured to one of the largest headlines, "Yeah, listen to this... 'Sirius Black; the criminal or Sirius Black the lead singer of the Hobgoblins?'" He flicked through a couple more pages and chose one at random. With another grin, he read out another title, "Dumbledore a Hippogrif in disguise?"

Chucking to himself, he folded the paper and passed it to Hermione and leaned back into his seat as Hermione, Luna, Neville, Ron and Ginny filed back in, the latter being a new addition to the compartment. Neville was still holding his cactus like plant - which really looked like some kind of poisoned organ - and Ron was still chewing on his liqorice wand, looking disgruntled about something. Ginny, however was smiling at Harry shyly - as she always seemed to be doing whenever she glanced at him.

"My father's the editor!" Luna said in a dreamy voice, at exactly the same moment as Hermione proclaimed that the Quibbler was a load of tosh. Hermione blushed and shot Neville and Ron a glare as they chuckled behind the plant.

"Well... Eh, it's not that bad... it's got some interesting..." Hermione glanced at the paper in her hand, searching for something to comment on. Harry grinned at Neville and Ron who's shoulders were silently shaking as they forced to keep their mouths shut.

"I'll have it back, thank you," said Luna coldly, grabbing the paper from Hermione's hands and flicked to page ten, then, she turned the paper around and continued reading, presumably from the same place at which she had been forced to stop when she left the compartment. Soon, she disappeared behind it, just as the compartment door opened a third time, and Draco Malfoy stepped in, followed by his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

"What?" Harry demanded instantly, not feeling up to arguing with Malfoy when the drumming was slowly becoming louder.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention," Malfoy drawled as he flashed the badge hanging over his house crest. Harry flashed Ron and Hermione an accusatory look... after all they hadn't mentioned Mafloy was the new Slytherin prefect. "You see, Potter, I unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

"Yeah," said Harry, rolling his eyes, as he massaged his forehead. "but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."

The others laughed silently at this comment, and out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Crabbe smirking at Goyle, who stood like a soldier, hands folded behind his back as he stared on, face emotionless. Well, it would have been emotionless, if not for the small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Tell me, how does it feel to be second best to Weasley, Potter?" He asked. Harry frowned at him, trying to keep his swimming vision in focus.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione replied sharply, seeing that Harry wasn't going to answer.

"Oooh, it seems I've touched a nerve," Malfoy said, in a sing-song voice as he sniggered at them, "Well, just watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be _dogging _your footsteps in case you step out of line."

"Get out!" Ginny exclaimed in a small, yet somehow powerful voice as she stood up and glared at Malfoy who was at least half a head taller than her.

Sniggering something about 'girlfriends', Malfoy departed, Crabbe and Goyle following him like faithful dogs. As Neville shut the door with his foot, Harry let his tense body relax into the comfortable bench, sighing with relief as The Drumming lessened slightly.

He vaguely registered the fact that Malfoy had mentioned _dogging_. Could he possibly know that Sirius was a dog animagus? And if he did.. Had his father told him?

The rest of the trip went by in a haze of jokes, sleep, sweets and reading. Well, mostly sleeping on Harry's part. After all, it wasn't every day the Drumming became almost non-existent so suddenly.

The moment they'd rolled into the station, Ron and Hermione had disappeared, to complete their prefect duties, leaving Harry alone with Ginny, Luna and Neville to search for a carriage to take them up to the school.

As he stepped out of the train with bleary eyes and yawning, Harry paused for a moment, to listen for Hagrid's reassuring voice exclaiming exhuberantly, "Firs'-years over 'ere... firs'-years..." But it didn't come, instead, a quite different voice, a brisk female cultured one, was calling out, "First-years line up over here, please! All first-years to me!"

Before he could take another step though, someone pushed him out onto the plat form. Twisting his body harshly, he sprang up to his feet and glowered at the second year who had accidentally tumbled against him.

"S-sorry... I didn't mean to. S-s-sorry!" The boy stuttered, an utterly frightened expression on his face. Harry suddenly realized he was scaring the kid, and closed his eyes and relaxed himself. What was _wrong _with him? Hadn't he ended up having a loud argument with Percy this morning? And the day before that... with Sirius? Why was he so full of _anger_?

"Where's Hagrid - oi, Harry, come on, we'll end up being last," Came Ginny's voice from behind him, and Harry snapped his eyes open and blinked a couple of times.

"Yeah. Right."

They ended up being last anyway to the horseless - carriages... Only they weren't horseless anymore. He slowly walked up to the last carriage, vaguely noticing that Luna was sitting inside already and stared at the creature pulling the carriage along.

The horse - well, it looked sort-of like a horse - was large, perhaps larger than a normal horse and seemed to have absolutely no flesh. Just a skeleton on which a dark coat clung to. It's head was oddly dragon-like and Harry blinked in shock as he gazed into it's eyes. He had expected them to be dark never-ending holes, much like he had imagined Dementor's eyes to be. Instead, two bright red-ish yellow coals burned in the centre, seemingly suspended by magic.

Stretching out a hand to touch it's head, Harry blinked when his hand touched a thick, sort of wet fur.

"Where's Pig do you reckon - Er Harry... What are you doing?" Ron had arrived and glancing over his shoulder, Harry noticed Hermione standing next to the carriage about to step in, but staring at Ron and Harry.

"Er... stroking the horse?" Couldn't they see it? Or was he really going mad?

"Horse?" Hermione was the one who had asked now and Harry hurriedly looked between his two best friends. He _was _going mad, wasn't he?

"Yeah! The horse pulling the carriages!" He paused, staring at their blank faces, "Look! Right there!"

Grabbing Ron's arm, he pushed his friend forward so that he was standing face to face with the horse. Ron stared blankly at the place in front of him, before turning to Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"There isn't anything there... What am I supposed to be seeing?"

"The winged horse! Harnessed to the carriage, can't you see it?" Ron kept staring at him, blinking every now and then. Harry sighed... what if he really _was _going mad?

"Are you feeling all right, mate?" Ron asked placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry took a deep breath and gave him a grin, which he was sure looked more like a grimace.

"Yeah. I'm alright." No, he wasn't at all.

Stepping into the carriage, he sat himself down in the dark corner, and leaned his head against the curtains of the carriage, trying to ignore the odd looks Neville, Ron, Ginny and Hermione were giving him. Harry tapped his fingers upon his knee impatiently... everything would be fine when they reached Hogwarts... Just a few more moments. He'd waited all summer, surely he could wait another kilometre.

"It's all right," Came the voice from across him, and he slowly raised his eyes to stare at Luna who was also half-hidden in the shadows of the corner, "You're not going mad or anything. I can see them too."

"Can you?" Harry asked desperately.

"Oh, yes," Said Luna, "I've been able to see them ever since my first day here. They've always pulled the carriages. Don't worry, you're just as sane as I am."

So he truly _was _going mad.

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**So... I understand there's a lot from the book in here. But it was inevitable. The moment Harry opens the fob-watch... it'll all be my story from then on. To be fair though, I changed a lot in the dialogue so that it wasn't a complete copy.  
**

**Anyway, leave a review, tell me what you think...**

**Btw, to anyone who also reads my other fanfictions... I actually have a plot for this story, so I actually know what I'm writing XD. **

**Thanks for reading! (And for bothering to click on this story XD) **


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm so, so, so, so, sorry for making you wait that long. I just haven't had any inspiration at all since the holidays began - about a week ago. I actually wrote this chapter _before _the holidays, but never uploaded it... I don't know why... *shrug***

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy it... XD I'm off to the nearest pizzeria to get some takeaway for dinner. When I come back, there better be some reviews in my inbox *threatens you with a virtual knife*  
**

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_"Oh, yes," Said Luna, "I've been able to see them ever since my first day here. They've always pulled the carriages. Don't worry, you're just as sane as I am."_

_So he truly was going mad._

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Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly as he forced himself not to yawn yet again, praying that if he did, Snape's vulture-like eyes wouldn't fall on him. Potions was, by far, the subject Harry hated most at Hogwarts... and was closely followed by Divination, which was, unfortunately, the subject on his time-table right after potions.

Glancing over at Hermione, who was sitting on his right, he noticed she was already pulling out her cauldron and lighting the fire. Blinking a few times, Harry noticed the class was a flurry of movement. Had he missed Snape's-first-speech-of-the-year?

He always had one, a very well composed speech which usually caused Neville to shake in his seat, and the rest of the Gryffindors to glance at each other anxiously. Perhaps that was why Snape did it... And probably, the git practised it in front of the mirror every night for the whole summer.

Where was the overgrown bat anyway?

"Potter, while you may regard yourself as above us, the rest of us certainly regard you as far below us." The cold and vicious voice of Harry's most hated professor. Raising his eyes slowly, Harry noticed a shadow had covered his workplace, and creating that shadow was Snape.

The bat looked uglier than ever. His nose seemed more crooked, and the hair looked greasier, his robes seemed to flow around him even more - much like a bat. Mentally, Harry snorted, imagining Snape as batman.

"I was under the impression that I..." Snape's lip curled with hatred as his eyes roamed Harry's face, before settling on his eyes, "Demanded you to brew 'The Draught of Peace'." Harry was half-tempted to say 'Well, you were under the wrong impression', but under the table, Hermione stomped on his foot, causing Harry to wince slightly.

Without another word, Harry shot Snape a glare of his own, and slammed his own blackened cauldron onto the small fire. Purposefully ignoring Snape, Harry opened his newly bought book and leafed through the pages until he found the right potion.

Almost an hour later, Harry's eyes were drooping more than ever as he stared down at the black goo his potion had become. The vapour was making him sweat a lot, and he was sure a sheen of seat had appeared on his clammy forehead. The smell wasn't helping much either, although it seemed to be the only thing that kept him properly awake.

Sniffing the area above his cauldron, his brows furrowed in confusion as suddenly and inexplicably, hundreds upon hundreds of smells erupted in his nose, sending him into momentary bliss, as his sleep-deprived mind tried to decipher what each sent was. Almost instantly, after he'd had that thought, a long list of ingredients appeared in his mind, all catalogued alphabetically.

Sucking in a breath, at the sudden influx of information, Harry glanced at the clock hanging above the door and realized he didn't have more than five minutes to finish the potion. Then, turning his attention back to the potion, he recoiled slightly when a long formula of numbers, letters and symbols suddenly seemed to appear in his sight. Blinking with shock Harry realized that it was exactly the same formula printed at the top of the page in his text-book.

And then, he suddenly understood the formula. For some inexplicable reason, he was suddenly aware of everything around him. He was aware of the outcast Slytherin at the back of the classroom picking his nose, Snape hovering over Malfoy's shoulder, Hermione tapping her nose as she thought about her next step... He was aware that Sean was about to dip his quill into the inkwell, he was aware that Neville was tapping out a lullaby with his foot. Hell, he was aware of the summer chill drifting from under the door of the potions classroom.

And then, for the next three and thirty six seconds, he worked like a possessed man... perhaps he _was _possessed, but for some reason, Harry couldn't bring himself to care. And then, as he slipped the last ingredient of the chopping board and into the cauldron, Harry let the knife in his hand clutter onto the wooden tabletop as he slowly leaned back in his chair, breathing somewhat heavily, half with panic, and half with exertion. That... inspiration... was gone, leaving him suddenly empty and exhausted, as if a part of him was missing.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione muttered quietly, cutting through his thoughts like a knife. Harry nodded distantly as he turned of the fire and poured some of his potion into a vial.

"Yeah, I'm all right." He muttered back with a smile, holding back a snort when he saw Ron's cauldron was spitting out something that resembled fireworks. "I'm always all right."

Hermione looked unconvinced, but didn't pursue the topic as she poured her own potion into a vial, which she set down on the table just as Snape called them all to stop.

Glancing around smugly, Harry noticed many students were still trying to cram more herbs into their potions, their arms flailing about helplessly. Comparing his own potion with Hermione's, he noted smugly that their potions had exactly the same shade of blue and seemed to be steaming a little.

Confusion graced Snape's face briefly as he walked by their table, staring at the two of them for a second longer than necessary, before he walked back to his desk, a collection of thirty vials floating behind him.

The bell rang, and instantly, the class burst into a flurry of movement as everyone tried to gather their things, all simultaneously trying to get their cauldrons to the huge sinks to wash them. Harry though, sat in his seat, frozen, as he stared at Snape who was sitting at his desk, already marking the potions. Even _Snape _of all people had noticed something wrong.

_Was_ something even wrong with him?

The answer was simple, and Harry winced slightly as he caught himself nodding. Perhaps Luna had been wrong after all, he truly _was _going mad.

...

There was something wrong with Trelawney, and everyone could see it.

Just the way she walked, the way she moved and spoke seemed off. Like she was ill, or distracted, or threatened... or perhaps all three of them. She kept zeroing on Harry, eyes wide, seemingly even larger, due to her large glasses.

Harry grinned at Ron as he pointed down at the 'Daily Dream' textbook, which explained what each dream meant. Distracting himself while Trelawney was hard, but making fun of divination with Ron sort of helped. "See, Ron - there's your dream." He paused as he cleared his throat, preparing to read the small text out, "Flying, whether it'd be on a broom, or without, signifies that one will soon have a fortunate event with a female."

Ron snorted and grabbed the book from Harry, as if to confirm his prophecy. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well," Harry said wagging his eyebrows, "I think that's rather obvious. An _event _with a _girl._"

Ron eyed him, "Since when have you been such a pervert?" He said with a chuckle as Harry grinned back, trying to force the drumming which had started up again, out of his head. His answer was cut short however, as suddenly, Trelawney appeared in front of him, head tilted to the side as she stared at Harry, mouth slightly open.

Then suddenly, with a jerk she became rigid, eyes unfocused as she kept staring at Harry. "Professor?" Harry asked cautiously, remembering the last time this had happened to her. And then her eyes started to roll and she started to shake like a schizophrenic. Harry didn't need to look around to realize that the whole class was staring at them, the lack of noise and that familiar prickling feeling at the back of his neck were enough to reassure him of the fact. And then - Professor Trelawney spoke, her voice harsh and sounding like several voices speaking at once - quite unlike her own voice:

"Wake, wake, wake, Master,

Gallifrey is alive.

Run, run, run, Doctor,

Rassilon has arisen."

The whole room was silent, even as Trelawney straightened herself, blinking rapidly and staring around in confusion as she realized she was being stared at.

"Well?" She said strictly, not really sounding as dreamy as usual, "What are all of staring at? Back to work!"

...

Three weeks. Three weeks had passed since Trelawney had spoken the prophecy. Oh, by now... Harry had absolutely no doubt that her prophecies came true, after all the prophecy she had spoken in his third year, about Pettigrew had been fulfilled.

Nevertheless, the more he mulled it over in his mind, the less he understood it. Who was the Master? The Master as in Voldemort? Or a master of a subject... like potions or transfiguration? Or a master as in a master of a House-Elf?

What was Gallifrey? And the Doctor? A doctor was a profession - someone who made others better - but why would a _doctor _have anything to do with a prophecy? And what about Rassilon? What was that?

Oddly enough, all the names stroke a familiar chord in Harry, as if he'd heard them a long, long time ago. In another life. He could never picture any of the people the names belonged to... Or rather, he often saw a large amount of faces, all thrown together.

Frowning, he reached out with his hand almost automatically, as he felt for the door of the Room of Requirement.

They, Dumbledore's Army, had started training there just about a week ago, when Hermione had managed to find a considerable amount of people willing to meet up to discuss everything. At first, Harry had felt anxious about teaching others. He didn't really like children that much, to him, they were to innocent. They hadn't seen the horrors outside of the walls of their house and the walls of Hogwarts, they hadn't seen the suffering, or the cruelty. _And perhaps_, Harry thought sighing to himself, as he pushed the doors open, _it is better if they don't know._

Everyone was at Hogsmead, and for once, Harry had decided not to come. He couldn't stand all that cheerfulness, not while the drumming inside his head got worse and worse. He couldn't stand everyone being so cheerful, while he suffered from the horrors he had had to survive. In a way though, he was grateful that he had lived through so much. Sometimes he wished he stayed naive, but he wanted to face the world with open eyes.

He was shaken out of his thoughts, however, when instead of entering the room he'd come used to seeing, he saw a cavernous room, filled to the brim with objects.

Just about five days ago, he'd come to the room during the night, wishing for a peaceful room in which he could relax and enjoy the few hours he had a day without headaches. The Room of Requirement had outdone herself, and had given him a large field.

The grass had been red, a darker colour than blood, and softer than any grass he'd ever touched. Softer even than the Dursley's grass. The sky had been a mixture of colours, some of which Harry didn't even know the name of. And up in that magical sky, two suns shone, lighting up the field, and the majestic mountains Harry could always see on the horizon.

But now, instead of seeing that magnificent place, which Harry had named 'Freya', the Room of Requirement had created a cavernous room, filled to the brim with objects. There were piles and piles of things stacked upon each other, rising so high up into the ceiling, Harry couldn't see some of the things at the top, due to the lack of light. There were a couple of windows, which Harry thought was odd, because technically, the Room of Requirement didn't touch any outer walls of the castle.

Harry slowly stepped forward, careful not to step on anything, and slowly started making his way down the crooked path between the piles of things.

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**Thank you for reading that incredibly short chapter - and I'm sorry for it's shortness... ... **

**Anyway, I hope everyone's enjoying their holidays! **

**Oooh, I have a question! I have a whole plot figured out and stuff... But do you want Jack to come in? This story is going to be with Clara and 11, but... should I throw Jack in?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for taking so long to update... I'm having a small family crisis (and a lack of inspiration crisis)... **

**Aaaaanyway, on with the story. I hope you like it. **

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_Harry slowly stepped forward, careful not to step on anything, and slowly started making his way down the crooked path between the piles of things._

_..._

Anxiously, he glanced upwards, and felt a spark of nervousness when he saw that the piles of things seemed to be leaning _in _rather than out - leaving him with a view to the ceiling the size of a small crack. Cautiously, he moved forward, careful to keep his hands to his body and his eyes narrowed in concentration.

And like that deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of long-forgotten objects he went, squinting in the dark, trying to make sense of everything around him. How had the room appeared? It responded solely to thoughts and desires... so what had he been thinking of while approaching the room? His life? How it didn't make sense anymore - not that it had ever made sense.

His thoughts were cut short, however, as he emerged out of the large path and into a sort of clearing, about as large as the Gryffindor room and filled with light emerging from a large glass dome above him. Squinting at the sudden brightness, Harry examined the 'room', there were six other paths going in different directions and Harry eyed them carefully... each looked darker than the other and if Harry were not a Gryffindor, he was pretty sure he wouldn't dare even come close.

He was about to continue walking, through the 'clearing' and down to the next path, but something halted him - a sort of tugging sensation at the back of his mind... A tugging sensation which seemed to be blocking out the drumming... well for that moment anyway. Harry frowned, the corners of his mouth tilting downwards as he considered how to proceed.

Hearing voices, or even small compulsion feelings like these were bad - even in the wizarding world. Hell, his second year was enough proof for that. Pausing for a moment, directly under the centre of the glass dome, he turned in a circle, trying to find out what was causing the tugging... Perhaps... if he just checked out what it was... The tugging feeling would leave...?

He finally stopped spinning when his eyes rested on a blistered old cupboard, tucked away in the shadows. Clasping his hands behind his back, Harry slowly approached it, eyes narrowing. On top of it, a pock-marked stone warlock stood proudly, wearing a dusty old wig and what looked like an ancient, discoloured tiara.

Then thing, though, that had so easily captivated his attention, was an equally dusty old pocket watch, hanging from a chain in the warlock's outstretched hand... and as Harry got closer, the tugging became stronger, and stronger...

He was about to reach out to grab the watch when a loud bang, followed by an equally loud - if not louder - crash alerted him, and he snapped his head up, eyes widening in shock as he witnessed the two fifty foot piles of junk that had been the pathway he'd come from, collapse against each other, blocking his way back completely.

"Well... Bugger." He said with a sigh as he watched the dust slowly settle. Scratching the back of his head, he glanced at the watch, and without a second thought he scooped it up with his hands and brought it up to his face, eagerly taking in every detail.

And suddenly, the drumming was back, full force and he grunted angrily, trying to ignore it, as he had been trying the whole summer. There was something else though... that odd feeling that something was in his mind... that feeling he got whenever Snape or Dumbledore stared at him, that x-raying feeling that something was examining him...

Harry shook his head, clearing it of those thoughts as he concentrated on the watch.

It was old - immensely old - as proven by the stained and slightly oxidised metal. Rubbing his thumb over the front to clear the slight layer of dust and dirt that had covered it, Harry frowned, taking in the small details engraved into it. To him, it looked like a work of art... those infinite amount of circles each overlapping the other... and then the dots, and lines and half circles... It was a mathematical sort of beauty - a sort of beauty that he was sure Hermione would love.

The back side was smooth and as Harry rubbed his thumb across it, a sort of pulse ran up his arm, filling him with warmth... and something else which made him feel so alive - almost as much as he had felt all those days ago in potions class.

...Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the feeling left him, leaving him slightly hollow and empty. The watch in his hands though, was warming up and Harry's eyes widened as he saw it glow gold for a brief moment.

_The brooms..._

Harry yelped as he jumped and flung his hands up in defence, letting the watch drop to the floor with a loud clang. Was it just him... or had the watch just spoken? And what had he meant by _brooms _of all things? Glancing about, he let out a small 'ahh' as his eyes rested upon two old dusty brooms, looking more ancient than the castle itself. So the watch had just told him... how to get out of the room of requrements?

Glancing down at the watch, Harry slowly extended his hand and scooped it up - slipping it into his pocket quickly - not wanting to hold it for much longer. Hurriedly, he rushed over to the brooms, wincing as he realized these ones didn't have any cushioning charms and pushed off.

...

Wearily, Harry stepped into the Gryffindor common room, and collapsed against the wall next to the portrait, muscles aching from exertion.

"Harry?" A voice called out, and Harry snapped his head up, staring around the empty common room, until his eyes found Hermione who was curled up in one of the large armchairs, a thick ancient-looking textbook in her hands. Apparently, she'd stayed up, waiting for him to come back to the Gryffindor tower. Glancing at his battered wrist watch, Harry noticed it was way past twelve.

"Yeah?" He exclaimed - a poor attempt at being cheery. Hermione spotted it and closed her book, and patted the armchair across from her, eyebrow raised as she silently demanded an explanation.

Rolling his eyes at her bossy attitiude, Harry pushed himself up and stumbled over to the armchair.

"Urgh, I _hate _Filch. The bloody idiot's been following me around, I swear!"

Hermione's eyebrow rose higher, her expression obviously disbelieving.

Tugging at his ear, Harry nervously grinned at her... "Well... I was in the Room of Requirements..." Hermione nodded once, her expression attentive, obviously expecting more to come. Harry rolled his eyes again. She wanted the truth. Fine. He'd giver her the truth... or not.

"And then I decided I was hungry... So I went down to the kitchens - I saw Cho on the way back. We snogged. I came back up." He said with a completely serious face, which Hermione obviously didn't buy it cause she snorted loudly and opened her book again.

"As if anyone would ever want to snog you - a little thin stick of nothing."

"Oi!" Harry attempted not to feel offended - which was hard considering how self-consious he was about his body. "Fine - Urgh, you bossy know-it-all, I was in the Room of Requirements. I heard someone coming up - and I know from Ron's notes that Thursdays are Snape's turn to patrol, so I... uh, took a shortcut, which threw me out in front of the library. Then I ran back up here."

Well... That was more or less the truth. The watch might have scared him a couple of times, by alerting him about some teacher, prefect or head-boy/girl patrolling... But Hermione didn't need to know that. Hermione searched his face for a moment, then her eyes travelled down to his hands.

"What's that then?" She asked, still staring down. He blinked and glanced down, frowning when he noticed the fob watch had somehow made it's way into his hands... and he'd been subconsciously rubbing at it.

"Oh... er..." Harry rubbed the back of his neck wondering how to formulate his answer, "Something I found in the Room of Requirement. Just an old, broken pocket watch."

"Have you opened it?" Hermione asked worriedly. He frowned and shook his head.

"Nope - but seriously, it's not like there's a curse or anything." Hermione ignored him though, and continued with her interrogation.

"How do you know its broken... if you haven't opened it?"

Harry who had been about to open his mouth to add something, stopped in mid-word and stared at Hermione. How _had _he known that it was broken? Suddenly, he threw the pocket watch down onto the small coffee table between them. Ever since he'd found the watch - strange things had happened... The whispering... that odd feeling making his feel whole and full for the first time in his life... the odd intrusion in his mind... And now this... Was it invading his mind? No, the idea itself was ludicrous.

Hermione scooped it up and blinked down at the symbols carved on the front.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Harry said, grinning at her. Her fingers traced the intricate design and she nodded silently.

"It looks like some sort of code... Like a name, or something."

Well... He hadn't thought of _that. _

"Let's open it!" She exclaimed and grinned up at him. Harry frowned. Hadn't she been all for distrusting the watch a second ago? Was the watch interfering with her thoughts as well?

And then... as she suddenly reached for the clasp at the top, Harry let out a shout and grabbed it from her... all of a sudden, feeling completely possessive of the damn thing. Hermione looked up at him in shock... then back at the watch and then at Harry. She blinked once or twice and then seemed to shake her head to clear it.

"Harry," She said silently but incredibly seriously, more serious than usual anyway, "Don't - don't open that. I don't know what just happened... but I think it's possessed. Besides... if someone should open it... It should be Dumbledore."

Harry felt his temper flare up as she mentioned the man and jumped up to his feet staring down at her... Ever since the trail, Dumbledore had been purposefully ignoring him, as if trying to distance him from the one person who had ruined his public image at the end of the last school year.

"This is my watch - I found it." Harry bit out harshly, eyes flashing dangerously, as Hermione stared up with wide eyes, probably never having witnessed him as angry. "And no one - and I mean _no one _except _me _can open it."

By now, Harry was struggling for breath... Something... _someone_ had taken over. That damned watch seemed to be squishing his consciousness out and leaving it's own... the anger he felt... at that silly little ape was not his own.

And then... as if to prove his point, he grinned down at Hermione, fully aware that he looked just a bit manic, and raised the watch above his head... and flicked open the clasp.

* * *

**Weeeeeeeellllllll... that escalated quickly... Sorry about another short chapter. I typed it up on my phone - road trip and all (it's not like I'm about to take my laptop, which is unfortunately malfunctioning anyway)... so sorry for any mistakes... If you see any - just message me or leave it in a review... I'll be happy to correct it XD  
**

**So... Next chapter... He becomes the master. I'm curious as to what his 'first word' will be... For the Doctor it's always been body parts after regenerations... The Master... John Simm just talked about his voice... Ooooooh, this is going to be interesting to write. XD**


	4. Chapter 4

**ooooookkkkk... sorry for the delay. I've been very busy. Holidays and all. XD**

**Anyway, I will be updating more now... mainly cause recently on a cycling trip I... uh... had an accident and smashed myself up pretty badly. Nothing's broken... I'm feeling much better now... sooo XD Anyway, I'm not allowed to move a lot for the next two weeks (so my wounds can scar properly)... so I'll be updating more XD**

**OOooooohhh, have you seen the new season (well, so far two episdoes) of Doctor Who?! OMG, I LOVE CAPALDI SO MUCH! He had me from "shush" **

* * *

_And then... as if to prove his point, he grinned down at Hermione, fully aware that he looked just a bit manic, and raised the watch above his head... and flicked open the clasp._

...

The pause that followed was long, and incredibly quiet. One could have heard a pin drop. And as Harry glanced down at Hermione he saw her staring up at him with wide eyes and a blank expression, obviously incredibly confused by whatever had just happened. She blinked at him a couple of times, and then slowly her mouth started forming a small but almost perfect 'o' as her line of sight moved onto the watch.

Confused by this turn of events, Harry frowned, still staring at Hermione, as he slowly let his arm descend. Then just as slowly, he let his eyes shift over to the open pocket watch cocooned in the palm of his hand and he gasped.

What he had initially thought was a broken watch, was actually a very 'well-working' watch and as he stared at the face, he noticed four little hands twirling at least five times as fast as a regular pocket watch - or any watch for that matter. However, this wasn't what had shocked him (and presumably Hermione too) most... as he stared at it, several tendrils of golden smoke curled upwards, almost desperately, as if they were men drowning in a sea and each one was trying to get as much oxygen as possible before another wave crashed upon them.

And then, with an almost unimaginable speed, those beautiful tendrils of gold snaked through the air and right into Harry.

The pain that then exploded in his head was almost unimaginable, and with a barely concealed shudder, Harry fell to the soft carpeted floor, hands grasping at his knees as he went into a fatal position. The drums that had been quiet for some time now, suddenly returned full force, forcing everything else out of his mind. Then, all of a sudden it seemed like his very blood was on fire... and then at some point (he wasn't sure when), for it could have been seconds, or hours, or even days... it all ended, leaving him slightly breathless. A sense of calm overcame his senses... And he jumped up to his feet, suddenly feeling incredibly energetic.

"Ha _Ha!" _He yelled, voice rising on the second 'ha'. He laughed, grinning down at Hermione, with a mad glint in his eyes. "I'm not a human _peasant _anymore!" Extending his arms up like a bird does when flying, he twirled around in a cirlce, his open robe flowing around him, "Freeeeeee!" He shouted, rolling the 'r'. "Freeeee like a birrrrrrd!"

Then suddenly, it seemed like all that energy he had originally gained left him, and he tumbled down to the floor, unconscious, leaving a very confused Hermione staring down at his form.

...

"-Albus, you have to understand, he has just survived a possession! I hardly think this is a time for interrogations!-"

Harry - no - that wasn't his name - or was it? - he was pretty sure he'd gone by that name - Saxon, was it? - no, no, no - The Master!? - groaned as he slowly came to, and his senses returned to him, intense and not willing to be ignored. The smell of disinfectant struck him unexpectedly and he wrinkled his nose, trying to get it out. Was he at a hospital?

Blinking his bleary eyes open, he stared at everything around him, carefully assessing his surroundings. He couldn't see much of the room, as he had been placed in a white hospital bed surrounded with white, closed curtains. On the side, stood a bedside table, and on it a cup of water, a book and a pair of round glasses. Ah yes! It was in infirmary... and he was at Hogwarts!

Suddenly a rush of memories attacked him, and he furrowed his brows as he slowly started to order them to their separate places. Hm, well, this was odd. Last he remembered of his _real _life, he'd just sent Rassilon and his entourage back to Gallifrey. Back to the Time-Lock... And he'd been caught up in the fight - in the process, sending himself back to Gallifrey with the rest... well, that was what _should _have happened. Instead, he seemed to have ended up in an... alternate universe? The time-lines felt all wrong here - that was what an alternate universe was supposed to feel like... But then there was that odd sense of belonging - something that an alternate universe wasn't supposed to be.

Raising his eyes up to the crack between the two curtains he spotted two blurry people, one old, bearded man, having a discussion with a petite old woman in WWII nurse's outfit, complete with the small hat upon her head. Searching his - or rather, Harry's - memories carefully, he surmised that the two were the Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and the Hogwarts Nurse Madam Pomfrey.

Had his reaction to getting his time-lord essence back been so violent that he'd ended up in the infirmary? Had his hearts failed or something? Well, if anything HAD happened, Hermione was probably the reason why he was now going to face an interrogation.

"Headmaster." Pomfrey said with a final-sounding voice. There was a pause in the conversation and he strained his eyes to differentiate the two figures. "Potter just spent a whole evening being possessed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-"

"Voldemort." Dumledore interrupted with a stern expression.

"and _then, _then he had a heart attack! You can hardly go and question him now!" Madam Pompfrey continued as if she'd never been interrupted.

He stifled a snort at hearing that. So they thought he'd been possessed by ol' Voldie - idiot humans. He had no doubt that while Voldemort's mind was incredibly advanced for a human, he would have no match to a Time-Lord, much less _The Master. _On Gallifrey he had been renowned for his mental prowess and incredible intelligence, hell, he was even more powerful mentally than the Doctor (who had always been renowned for his practical skills)... It wasn't like a single _wizard _human was going to stop him now.

But wait... Pomfrey had said that he'd had a heart attack? Had they noticed that he had two hearts? The Master - or Harry - or Saxon, or whoever he was, frowned at the thought. Humans were hostile creatures, well, when they were exposed to new things. He was sure that if they realised that he was an alien (well, to them anyway), they'd insist on cutting him up and investigating. With a small sigh, he checked both hearts and noted that they were both thumping away in his chest, healthy and energetic. So Pomfrey must have noticed, if she'd said he had a heart-attack. Why hadn't she said anything to Dumbles?

He was jerked out of his thoughts, however, as the curtain swung aside suddenly, and the headmaster of Hogwarts entered, closely followed by an angry looking nurse. Noticing that even at that distance they were still blurry, he grabbed the gasses on the bedside table and slipped them on carefully, and awkwardly, not really used to using glasses. So far in all of his regenerations, he'd never had to use glasses - his sight had always been great, even when he'd regenerated into that old scientist at the end of the universe.

Talking about regenerations, how had he regenerated into this form? Weirdly he could feel that this wasn't a regeneration, this was something else. Something else had caused him to change his appearance... to a baby of all things... and then he'd grown into a _teenager. _Urgh, he had to go through puberty again.

"Good morning, Harry. I see that you're awake. " (_no shit, Sherlock,_ he thought.) The Headmaster said pleasantly, eyes twinkling brightly. Harry - no, he was The Master. He wasn't some puny little human creature. _The Master _scoffed inwardly at the atrociously bad mask the man used to hide his true self. Outwardly, he smiled pleasantly as well, using his 'social-skills' from when he'd been Harold Saxon. Out of the corner of his eye, the Master noticed Pomfrey glaring at the back of Dumbles' head.

"'Morning." He paused and let his face fall into a look that hopefully said 'help-what-the-hell-just-happened-to-me'. If they thought he'd been possessed... well, that was a good cover as any. "Wh-What happened s-sir?"

Dumbledore's earlier guarded expression morphed into a slightly more gently look when he heard the broken tone in the Master's voice, and the latter grinned inwardly.

"Ah, my boy... that is a complicated question." He paused, and behind him Pomfrey frowned again, and swept from the small curtained area, presumably back to her office. "You see, it seems that last night... Voldemort tried to possess you. Unfortunately, he succeeded somewhat. Ms Granger saw this happen and instantly alerted your head of house, professor McGonagall."

The Master schooled his expression into that of shock and slight fear, almost grinning when Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder as if sympathising.

"Um... Is there anyway to fight him?" The Master asked the obvious question. Dumbledore leaned back a little as he considered him for a moment. Then finally, as if seeing something good, he nodded once and let his arm fall back to his side as he walked back to the end of the bed.

"Yes. Yes, there is. It's called Occlumency - the art of shielding one's mind. Voldemort seems to have discovered your apparent link... with him, and has started to use it to his advantage. Occlumency would allow you to shield your mind from Legilimency attacks - mind-reading. So, from now on, you shall be taking Occlumency lessons. I fear Voldemort might try to do the same thing again..."

The Master stared at him. Well, shit. He'd thought such blatant favouritism wouldn't be such a problem here as it had been on Gallifrey. The Doctor's house at the Academy had once won the house cup because the Headmaster decided that the teachers hadn't been fair to the Doctor all year.

Dumbledore suddenly glanced down at his watch as if he'd just remembered he had to do something and gave 'Harry' a polite smile. "I'm afraid, my dear boy, I have several other previous engagements to attend too." He paused and stared down at Harry, "Are you sure you are all right, Harry?"

The Master nodded solemnly and gently lowered his head, to hide his smile, as the headmaster left the hospital wing.

Almost instantly, Madam Pomfrey entered through the crack between the two curtains, a stethoscope in one hand, and a small vial in the other one. Once she had set the vial on the bedside table, she sat down on the side of the Master's bed and frowned sternly at him. The Master frowned back, eyeing the stethoscope worriedly. So, she _had _to know that he had two hearts... but why hadn't she said anything to Dumbledore?

As she put the ear plugs into her ears and raised the small circular end to his chest, the Master took a deep breath and made his right heart stop. If he convinced her that he only had one heart... maybe he could later hypnotise her later and erase the memory of noticing his two hearts.

Madam Pomfrey's frown deepened as she placed the stethoscope on his chest, and her eyes slowly rose to meet the Master's. The Master cocked his head to the side, wincing slightly as all of a sudden, the drumming started up again and asked sweetly, "Having trouble locating the heart, madam?" He added a small, but sweetly innocent smile at the end and laughed inwardly as her glare intensified.

"Mr Potter, stop fooling around-" Suddenly it seemed she had forgotten her stethoscope (which tumbled out of her hand and slid down the Master's chest), as she started a staring contest. Well, that was what it would have looked to an outsider... what the Master was actually doing, was hypnotising her. It was an easy method really, and it always left him wondering why other Gallifreyans never managed to do it as well as him. It was a simple matter of worming into someone's mind, and then throwing a compulsion web around their minds.

With a grin, he pulled out of her mind, restarted his heart, dressed himself back in his own clothes (which he found in the bedside table) and left the infirmary, leaving a very confused nurse staring up at the ceiling as she composed herself again.

* * *

**Ok, this wasn't a particularly long chapter... sorry. **

**Anyway, I can't wait to see Hermione's reaction when she learns who he is. OOoooh, and The Doctor and Clara are coming in soon. Ah, and the explanation why the Master is in the Hp universe will come along with them XD  
**

**Anonymous reviewers:  
**

**Bryn: thank you so much for reviewing! It's always a pleasure to read your comments. XD Yeah, I think there should be more fics about the Master. He's such an awesome character with such an incredible personality XD **

**Guest: um... no not really. I don't want to 'kill Harry off'. I mean, the Master was Harry for about 14 years.. Even though the Master is centuries old, I think that even 14 years can make an impression on him. Thank you for your review!  
**

**So... thank you so much for reading, reviewing, faving and following! I really appreciate it! XD**


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